Time passed. Months, then years, then decades.
Lucy had married and had a life of her own. She had grown up to be everything her parents had hoped she would be; an intelligent, caring, and strong woman. She had been the best daughter anyone could have ever asked for; everything they had ever dreamed.
While seasons came and went, while years passed, their love remained. It had withstood the test of time, had grown stronger even.
But they were living on borrowed time.
They were twenty years older now. Cid was fifty-eight, Vincent eighty-one.
Cid had aged.
Vincent had not.